The Saga of Steiner von Pestis
by HammerOfNihilism
Summary: The adventures of an elven Death Knight.
1. Chapter 1 Seasonal Colds

((This is my first "published" story on . As you can tell, i'm no professional writer. This story follows the adventures of my Death Knight, Steiner, from the Battle of Light's Hope Chapel onwards. I'm sure some lore inaccuracies will pop up here and there, so feel free to correct me, so I can edit the story accordingly. Also, I haven't proof-read this story either, so please excuse any errors. Other than that, enjoy! And give me constructive criticism if you want as well.))

**The Saga of Steiner von Pestis**

_Chapter one: Seasonal Colds_

"_Three days I've been confined to this bedroll, inside a tent, in the middle of a frozen tundra. It's quiet, save for the howling winds outside. Perhaps it was something I ate, or drank? I don't know for sure. No one in the party knows for sure what I've come down with. During the day I feel like a living torch, and at night I feel like an ice cube. My sleep, as rare as it's been, is filled with horrible visions of death and never ending cold. A voice whispers in my ear from time to time. It's deep and resonant, and shakes my bones with every word. Yet it's cruel and as razor cold as the shredding winds outside my tent. _

_Leofric, our one priest, has denied anyone entrance into my tent, for fear that the rest of the group will catch whatever disease plagues me. He's the only one I've seen for days now. As skilled as he is, he's been able to do nothing except dull the pain a little. From time to time I reach for my sword, and I can barely lift it. Three days ago it felt like a feather in my hands. _

_Curse this place! Curse this frozen tundra!_

'_Go to Northrend,' they said 'Many riches and powerful artifacts to be found.' Bah! Lies! If I ever get out of this place, if I ever regain my strength, I will find those lying bastards and hang them with their own entrails!_

_Even writing this weakens me. I doubt I have much longer to live. It's a pity I won't be able to say farewell to my comrades. I wish them the best of luck, and I hope they make it off this blasted continent alive. Should someone find th—_

_Seems I may have a visitor. Poor Leofric is facing a wrath far more terrifying than the ice storm. The girl is here."_

- **Excerpt from a frost covered book**

"Let. Me. In."

Leofric yelped and fell through the tent door, almost pulling the structure down with him. Rubbing his backside, he got back to his feet, and made to protest once more.

"He can't be disturbed! He's sick, and most likely contagious! I know you mean well, but you can't be here! Please lea—" A thin hand grasped Leofric's robes, and with a strength those small hands didn't seem to possess, he was thrown back outside the tent. The priest's startled cry was lost to the wind.

The girl walked further into the tent, a triumphant look on her pale face. She was small for her race, lithe, with fierce green eyes and silver hair pinned into a bun on the back of her head. Like most of her people, she was naturally beautiful, with flawless skin and healthy attributes. She was swaddled in a heavy cloak, but a black leather body suit was hidden beneath. Her look of triumph disappeared the moment she laid eyes on the prone figure at the other side of the tent.

"Kael'Therin…"

"Hello girl." Kael'therin replied, setting aside his quill and journal. "That was a little unnecessary, wasn't it? Leofric meant well." He was about to say more, when he doubled over in a fit of coughing.

The girl made a move to help, but stopped short when Kael'therin waved her back. "That'll do you no good, girl." He said.

"I have a name you know." She said back, a small frown creasing her near perfect face, but her words lacked the fire they usually held.

"I know, girl." Kael'therin replied, the ghost of a smile passing across his lips. She did have a name, and Kael'therin knew it, but he had always referred to her as 'The girl'. In truth, she wasn't much younger than him by the standards of their people, but that didn't stop him from using the nickname. She hated it, but it was a term of endearment, whether she knew it or not. "Now why are you here? This tent is a dangerous place to be."

"Well…" She paused. Was she blushing? "I had to come see you. The rest of the group is wondering about you. I—" she shook her head furiously. "—We, were worried about you. All of us."

Kael'therin tried to smile. But as sunken and pale as his face was, it looked absurd. "I'm fine. Just resting. A cold, nothing more."

"You're lying." She said matter-of-factly.

A weak laugh turned into a horrible fit of coughing. "Of course I am. Bad for morale and all that. Or maybe I'm not. I'll be fine. I've dealt with much worse than thi—"

"Stop it!" The girl cut in, a hurt look on her face. Generally, she was a strong character, fierce and unphased by the horrors she faced on a near daily basis. But seeing Kael'therin so feeble and sick was chipping away at her hardened façade. "You're not fine, and this isn't just some seasonal cold."

Kael'therin protested weakly as she knelt beside him and used the edge of her cloak to dab away the cold sweat on his brow. "It kills me to see you like this, Kael'therin…" she whispered in an unsteady voice. Were Kael'therin not sick, he'd have quirked his brow at her tone. As it was, he felt too sick and tired to look anything other than grim and resigned. Even more than that, she never used his name when speaking to him, a clear sign she was as worried as she said she was.

"You want me to be honest, girl? Fine. I don't think I'll last any more than a day, probably less. That's fine. I'm more worried about how the rest of you are going to get out of here. It's my fault we're here. It's my fault Seredin was killed, and it's my fault I'm lying here. I need to figure out how to get the rest of you out of here." He replied, coughing after each sentence. The voice, the one he'd been hearing since he'd been sick, was clawing at his ears now. It was almost impossible to ignore it.

"Shut up. It's not your fault. You didn't know, and you wouldn't have put us at such risk if you had any idea of how horrible this place is. You've brought us so much success, so many good memories…" The girl's voice trailed away, and Kael'therin thought he saw a tear streak down her face. "You saved my life more times than I can remember. You've always been there for us." She finally continued, swallowing hard as she forced herself to speak. "I know none of them—" The girl gestured towards the tent flap, towards the rest of the party sitting in the cold. "—could bear to lose you. And I know I can't."

Kael'therin closed his eyes for a long moment, suddenly feeling a thousand years older, and more weary than he'd ever felt before. The girl gasped, thinking Kael'therin had died, but he opened his eyes again, and stared for a long moment at the tent ceiling. "I'm tired, girl. Can the rest of your retrace our steps?"

The girl thought for a moment, and glanced towards the tent flap. "I think so. But it'll be tough getting through all those…creatures. They're what stands between the boat and us. And that's if we don't get killed by this storm."

Kael'therin almost didn't hear her. The voice was booming in his ears, and he ground his teeth in frustration.

_Let go,_ it said. _You will join us, my death knight, whether you like it or not. You will serve._

"Death knight…" Kael'therin murmured to himself. He saw the girl give him a quizzical look.

"Wha—"

"Get out of here. Now. Pack up the gear, and fight to the boat." Kael'therin said fiercely, a bit of his old strength returning to him in his urgency to usher his party away.

The girl stared him for a moment as he sat up, brightened momentarily seeing his surge of strength. Kael'therin stared at her impatiently, and she finally shook her head and spoke. "Very well. We'll get moving at once. I'll have Leofric and Bren fix a stretcher. We can pro—" She stopped, seeing the look in his eyes. Kael'therin shook his head slowly.

"Not this time, Savira." He said, using her name for the first time in longer than he could remember. "I'm tired. I think I'll take a nap." He said mildly.

"No! No! No! We're not leaving you! I'm not leaving you!" The girl said, shaking her head furiously in protest. Her cheeks glistened, and Kael'therin felt a momentary stab of pain in his heart. He finally understood.

"Get moving, now." He said calmly. "I will be fine on my own. But you and the rest of the group need to leave, now." He said, hoping he didn't sound desperate. Something deep down inside him felt something approaching, and it wasn't something him or his companions could fight.

The girl, Savira, looked hurt beyond measure. But the look passed almost as quickly as it had manifested. Standing up, she turned on her heel and walked out of the tent. Over the howling of the wind, he could just make out her voice, giving orders to the rest of the party.

Kael'therin smiled grimly to himself, and his now bony hand crept along the frozen ground to find the hilt of his weapon. At least he wouldn't die unarmed. The voice in his ears became deafeningly loud, and he almost screamed. Something stick ran from his ears to pool in the sunken hollows of his collar bone. It was blood. The voice was taunting him, tormenting him, and commanding him to give up and die.

The girl walked back into the tent as Kael'therin was slowly getting to his feet. His movements seemed to take a titanic amount of effort, and he could barely keep on his feet. He gaped at Savira for a moment.

"What the hell are you doing! I told you to leave!" He almost screamed, before doubling over in a fit of coughing.

Savira had thrown her cloak to the floor, and had her weapons in her hand, black leather glinting in the candlelight. "I told you, I am not leaving you. The others didn't want to leave either, but I told them you'd be along soon. But I won't leave you alone. I can't." She said fiercely. Kael'therin thought for a moment that she planned to stab him to death if he refused her.

But refuse her he would. Kael'therin had already gotten one of his companions killed, and he would not have any more blood on his hands when sickness—or more likely whatever was coming for him to claim his life—killed him. "Stupid girl!" He snarled weakly. Kael'therin made a move to grab her shoulder, but stopped, unwilling to risk infecting the girl with whatever disease he had. "Leave now, girl! There's something coming. Something neither you or I can fight! I won't have your death on my hands!"

The sound of flesh on flesh erupted in the silence of the tent. Kael'therin was almost knocked down by the blow. The girl glared at him, rubbing her hand. "How dare you! After all of this…after everything, you're just going to shoo me away?! I told you, I am not leaving! If you die, I'll follow you into death!" She screamed. Kael'therin was stunned.

_You will serve…_ the voice reminded him, it's cruelty like a physical blow. His mind pounded. _…and they will serve as well. But their fate will be worse than yours ever will be._

"No…no more." He gasped, his hands clawing at his head. The girl stopped mid-tirade to stare at him. Kael'therin refused to get anyone killed, especially the girl. But it was obvious she wouldn't leave him. He thought briefly of the route they had taken to get where they had camped. Perhaps he could…

"Are you alright Kael—" The girl was cut short as Kael'therin backhanded her. The blow wasn't particularly strong, but he knew how much force to apply, and where to apply it to. Dropping to the floor like a sack of grain, Kael'therin knelt next to her, and began wrapping her in her cloak, and his own black and red-trimmed one. Using all the effort he could conjure, he dragged her out of the tent. At the edge of the camp was a steep decline. Not nearly so much to make it a cliff, but enough for it to require a decent amount of effort to ascend. It was flat, Kael'therin noted, devoid of any jagged rocks. If he remembered correctly, a massive snowdrift lay at the bottom of the slope. A groan reached his ears over the screaming wind.

"W-what the hell…" The girl muttered, slowly at first, and then quickly as she realized she was bound. Struggling in the roll of cloaks, she looked up at Kael'therin. Anger thundered in her eyes at first, and then sadness. "Don't make me go…" she pleaded, looking up at the almost skeletal face of Kael'therin. "I need to stay…I belong here!"

Kael'therin's face took on a sad look, and he went down on one knee, gasping. The effort of dragging the girl all this way had drained him almost completely, and he felt like his heart wouldn't hold out for much longer with the strain he placed on it. He was about to reply when the girl cried out, her eyes fixed on something over Kael'therin's shoulder. He followed her gaze, and swore softly. Dark shadows were looking towards the camp, their identities hidden by the white wall of snow. One of the shadows was far taller than the rest, and an eerie blue glow pierced the wintery veil where it's eyes would have been.

Gasping, Kael'therin reached inside his being to summon up one last ounce of strength. Gasping, he turned to look back at the girl. She wouldn't say anything, but her eyes said it all. Don't leave me… they pleaded.

"I'm sorry about hitting you girl." He said softly. "Take care of the others."

She tried struggling again, but it was pointless. The shadows in the distance were nearly there. Kael'therin didn't wait for her to reply. Instead, he cried out in pain as he made one last effort, one final push that sent the girl rolling down the slope. Kael'therin hoped she would make it out alive. A pity he thought, it would have been interesting.

_They can run all they want… _The voice boomed. Kael'therin turned. "…but it will do them no good. They will be mindless drones. But you, you will be much more, elf."

Kael'therin felt his heart explode, his lungs collapse, and his ears bleed as he fell to his knees. He had used the last bit of strength getting Savira to safety. Now, so close to the towering figure in front of him, he felt the life being sapped from his body. It only took Kael'therin seconds to die, but it felt like it took hours. It all went in slow motion as he crumpled to the ground. All he could see of the giant in front of him was black plate and those cold, cold blue eyes. Please let them all make it out alive… was Kael'therin's last living thought.

"Your journey does not end here, elf. Welcome to undeath…"


	2. Chapter 2 Of Blood and Ice

_Chapter two: Of Blood and Ice_

_Kill them, kill them all._

The voice growled in his ears. A faint, seemingly ancient memory clawed at the edges of his mind. He had known that voice, not as he knew it now, but before all of this. Conveniently, he thought, the memory is vague and almost non-existent. Faces, names, feelings, sounds—None of it he could recall in his mind. It was like his memories were sketches, and someone had purposely taken an eraser to the most important details.

_It is not yours to question, only to serve. Now kill._

It was as if the voice knew. No, of course it would. The master always knew. It's voice was always there to chastise him when his mind wandered off the task at hand.

"Steiner, you better be dead, and I mean dead for good if you're sitting around like that." A rasping voice called out from behind.

Steiner von Pestis shifted in the saddle of his Acherus Deathcharger and glared at the newcomer. Beneath him, his wraith-like warhorse snorted, sensing it's master's anger. "If you speak to me like that again, I'll make damn sure you're the dead one. Then maybe the worms could finally finish their meal, Bael."

Bael was a half-rotten and worm-eaten human corpse in a suit of black-iron armor. He didn't share the same fortune Steiner did, who was as perfectly preserved as the day he had 'died'. It was, perhaps, the reason Bael disliked him. No, Steiner thought, _hate_ is a much more accurate word.

"In case you haven't noticed, they're probably full by now." Bael said dismissively. He guided his horse to a stop beside Steiner's. "But it's not my flesh the worms want today, and you're supposed to be feeding them." The corpse rasped, almost managing to sound angry. "But it looks like you're busy sightseeing. Why you are even part of the Ebon Blade, I'll never know. You're more fit to be sword fodder than a Knight."

Steiner's glowing blue eyes shifted from Bael's ugly visage to a gaggle of mindless ghouls in the background. Lacking any free will, or intelligence for that matter, they were controlled by the iron will of the master. The ghouls were dragging a wagon filled with glistening red meat towards the Ebon Blade base camp. With a mixture of cold humor and revulsion he regarded the wagon's contents. His eyes widened just a fraction when he noticed a human skull half buried beneath bloody sinew.

"Food for the fodder." Bael remarked, as if reading Steiner's expression. "You should know that by now, or did you lose your brain with your soul?"

The Death Knight threw Bael another withering glare, but held his tongue. While the rotting corpse wasn't Steiner's direct superior, he did report to a higher power. And besides, conflict within the Ebon Blade was forbidden. Which didn't mean it never happened, but no one wanted to displease the master.

"My apologies, Bael, I was…formulating a plan of attack on the town." Steiner replied, gesturing a mailed hand towards the stone wall of the town in the distance. It's name was New Avalon, or so he'd been told.

"Bullocks," Bael began, fixing the other death knight with a hard stare. "you were thinking of where best to hide while the master's other subjects did your work for you."

Steiner was about to reply when Bael kicked his steed into a trot. "Best get to work, before he grows impatient—" For a moment, Bael's expression softened, and his voice dropped to a deathly whisper. "It does you no good to dwell on what may have been your past. You're Ebon Blade now, death knight. We have no past, only the present. Put it out of your mind. Others never could, and they paid for it," The corpse paused and glanced at the ghouls who were trundling away into the distance. "so heed my warning. Your place is to serve, nothing more."

With that, Bael was gone. For a full minute, Steiner sat there, staring at his rival's back as he disappeared into the distance. Not once had Bael ever treated him with anything other than contempt. But for that short moment, Bael had spoken to him as a comrade, as someone who had traveled the same road.

_Were Bael's words not clear enough, death knight? Kill._

This time, the words boomed in Steiner's mind, causing him to double over in the saddle. He groaned, and waited, hunched over until the pain passed.

"Yes master, your will be done." The death knight intoned out loud.

His master wanted blood, and blood he would get. Steiner kicked his horse into action, the undead steed screeching and starting forward. The farmland surrounding New Avalon had been burned, and fresh corpses littered the countryside. In the near distance, the sound of steel upon steel filled the air—As well as the screams of the dying.

As he passed by a small pond, he took a moment to regard his visage. He had the strong, proud face of a warrior, with cheekbones carved from rock and the nose of a predator-hawk. His eyes, once green, now had an eerie blue glow. Raven black hair framed his face and fell down past his shoulders. Thin lips were held in an almost permanent sneer, and his long pointed ears spiked above his head. His entire face, indeed, every patch of skin not encased by black-iron armor was covered in a thin layer of ice. Tiny icicles hung from his ears. Whenever he spoke or changed expression, it was always accompanied by the tiny crackling of breaking ice, like ice cubes dropped into a warm glass.

Were it not for his terrifying and grim countenance, he would have been considered a fairly attractive high elf. But as he was, he exuded an aura of terror and freezing cold. So cold, in fact, that grass frosted and crumbled beneath his feet, and water froze at his touch. As terrifying as that may have been, it was absolutely pitiful compared to the aura of his dread master.

An arrow glanced off his left shoulder, taking the ruby-eye out of the goat-skull crafted into the metal. Shaking off his reverie for the second time of the day, he fixed his eyes on an archer hiding in the bushes to his left. With a snarl of anger, Steiner grabbed the reigns of his steed and wheeled him around to chase down the ambusher. The man, a farmer by the looks of him, moaned in despair and turned to run. The bow clattered to the ground as Steiner caught him. In one motion, he pulled his massive rune-axe from his back and cut the farmer in two from the waste up. A healthy coating of blood and viscera covered the front of his steed, and the axe in his hand hissed as it consumed the blood on it's blade.

_Yes! Good!_ His master's voice applauded in his head. _But that's only the beginning, there is much more blood to be spilt._

Just up ahead, a small battle was being held at the foot of the walls guarding New Avalon. Ghouls and patchwork abominations fought against the town militia and the Scarlet Crusaders. A handful of death knights in initiate robes were acting as officers, each commanding a handful of ghouls or abominations. Their counterparts were similarly commanding militia and foot soldiers. The battle looked very much in favor of the death knights and their minions. Up until one of the abominations disintegrated in a ball of golden flames. It's killer stepped through the holy fire to stand before his enemies. A paladin, tall, broad, hammer in hand, and a white tabard trimmed with scarlet. Without a word, he screamed and threw himself at the nearest death knight initiate. Strengthened by the presence of such a holy warrior, the militia and foot soldiers trudged into the fray with renewed fury. Death knights and undead minions alike were being cut down with ease.

Steiner eyed the paladin, watching with the appraising eyes of a warrior as the crusader crushed a flailing death knight initiate to the ground. Steel fragments, splinters of bone, and pulped gore showered the area with the force of the impact. Yet blood refused to stain the holy warrior's body or weapon. Indeed, he seemed to be encased in some kind of divine shield. Here, the death knight mused, was a foe worth fighting. Indeed, the rest of these creatures seemed beneath him. But this crusader was different. The master would be pleased at his death.

Steiner howled as he kicked his steed into the fray. The sound carried over the sound of battle, causing man and minion to pause for the briefest of moments. As his steed impacted with the tangle of bodies, Steiner threw himself off the horse and into the press of combatants. The aura of cold surrounding the death knight caused the humans to shrink away from him, and he laid into anything within reach with his rune-axe _Grimulfr_. A man, eyes wide in desperation charged Steiner with a claymore held above his head. With seemingly casual ease, he sidestepped the overhead swing, and split the man's spine apart with a flick of the wrist. At that same moment another man, a crusader foot soldier, clambered over a body and thrust his sword at Steiner's abdomen. Before the blow connected, a coil of pure unholy magic lanced from the death knight's outstretched hand, engulfing his attacker's face. Flesh melted from bone, and bone turned to dust as the soldier shrieked and died. It was then a sound reached Steiner's ears. A cold, brutal sound filled with depthless cruelty and sadism. He realized it was laughter, his laughter.

Bodies were piling up all around the death knight as both forces ground themselves down. Neither side would flee under the unflinching eyes of their champions, and the slaughter was terrible. The ground was muddy and soggy, where only a short time before it was dirt. Combatants were sloshing around in crimson mud and puddles of gory entrails. Steiner's face had become a red mask, as bloody and gobbets of flesh had frozen to his skin. Another man fell to _Grimulfr_, his plump belly opening to a broad slash. It was then that the death knight came face to face with the paladin. Despite having killed so many creatures, the paladin was still completely spotless.

"Abomination!" The paladin hissed. The other combatants had stopped fighting, and were instead forming a loose ring around Steiner and his opponent. He knew without a doubt that the victor's side would win the battle. Single combat of this sort either won or lost battles.

"I believe you killed all of those. You've made quite a few flesh shapers angry, human. Perhaps you can supply your own flesh as repayment." Steiner retorted as he sized the paladin up. Compared to the crusader, he was smaller, and far less muscular. Which meant he probably had speed on his side.

"Jonathan the Redeemer, Paladin of the Scarlet Crusade."

"Steiner von Pestis, Hammer of the Ebon Blade." The title meant nothing, but the death knight felt like he had to match his opponent's introduction with something of his own. It sounded good, come to think of it.

And with that, the time for words ended. Paladin and death knight circled each other in a field full of blood and severed limbs, looking for any kind of opening. As they circled, the paladin lost his footing as he slipped on the spilt organs of a dead soldier. Steiner took his chance and lunged at the paladin, his rune-axe carving a bloody arc through the air. The blow never connected, because the paladin had been bluffing. Surging upwards from his knees, his massive war hammer connected with Steiner's chest in a dazzling flash of golden light, and a sound like thunder. Black iron screamed and cracked under the force of the blow, and Steiner was thrown into the crowd, amidst his own side. Around him, the foot soldiers cheered and the death knight initiates groaned.

Numerous hands dragged him to his feet, and another pair handed him _Grimulfr_. Lights were flashing in his eyes, and the world seemed unsteady. As he made his way back into the ring, a few of the scarlet crusaders gasped. A blow like that should have killed Steiner, and surely would have, were he anything less than he was. He wasn't unscathed however, and knew full well another blow of that magnitude would kill him for sure. Shards of his broken armor were falling to the ground as the chest plate came apart. Setting down his rune-axe, Steiner quickly undid what was left of the armor, and threw it to the ground. Bare-chested, now, he took up his weapon once more. Fortunately, the paladin was an honorable man, and waited while Steiner readied himself a second time. The death knight wouldn't have taken that chance.

For a second time, man and elf circled each other. This time, Steiner smiled to himself. He would let the paladin attack this time. As he lowered his axe a mere fraction, the paladin took the opening. A lightning fast horizontal strike hurtled towards Steiner, but he wasn't there to greet the hammer. He had spun around the outside of the paladin's guard as the crusader stepped forward to make his attack. With a howl, he sank his axe into his opponent's back. _Grimulfr_ gave a tortured scream as the paladin's divine shield fought against the blow. What should have been a lethal strike only cut a wide gash across the paladin's lower back. But it was something, and now they were about even.

There was no circling anymore. Only attacks, counter-attacks, and the shriek of tortured metal as both opponents locked weapons. Most of it was too fast for the spectators to follow, as weapons flashed like lightning. Blackened blood oozed from minor cuts all over Steiner's body, and froze to his pale near-grey skin. Horrifying bruises, like rotten black and yellow fruit marked his torso where the paladin's hammer had found its mark. Likewise, his counterpart was battered and bloodied.

The paladin was taking ragged breaths, and even Steiner was feeling drained. This fight had to end quickly, or he was certain he would lose. By the look in the paladin's eyes, he could tell the man was thinking the same thing. As both men closed in on each other for the final confrontation, Steiner pointed to a nearby corpse and hissed. "Come here!" he cried, and the corpse opened it's eyes, and sprang to it's feet. Men around him gasped in horror, and the death knight initiates cheered. The once-man, at an unspoken command pounced on the paladin. With ease, the paladin threw it to the ground and crushed it with his hammer, but it was simply meant to be a distraction. Steiner closed the distance he threw an open hand in the direction of his opponent.

A cloud of frost surrounded the paladin, and turned patches of exposed skin black with frostbite. It was called frost fever, a disease of a magical sort that deadened skin and sent spikes of icy pain through its victim's body. Screaming in pain, the paladin sluggishly began to respond to his attacker. But numbed by the icy chill, his frostbitten fingers fumbled with the hammer. Intoning a word of pestilence, the death knight struck at the paladin with a wild horizontal slash. It ended up as only a glancing blow, opening a gash in the crusader's shoulder, but it was enough. Blood turned to acid in the paladin's veins, searing arteries and burning like fire in his heart. This was the blood plague, another disease in the death knight's unholy arsenal, which turned blood corrosive and ate away at veins and organs.

Deathlike silence followed as the Scarlet Crusade Paladin sank to his knees in crippling pain. The hammer fell from nerveless fingers, and he looked up at Steiner. Only hate and loathing burned there. For some reason, Steiner hesitated. It was as if he was looking at himself through the paladin's eyes. Abomination! They spat. Creature of filth! Fallen hero!

The death knight reeled under the paladin's gaze, and he felt something break inside of him. It wasn't something he could describe, or understand, but he felt it break nonetheless.

You cower beneath the stare of a defeated enemy? The master boomed suddenly, breaking Steiner from his daze. Kill him, and end this pathetic battle! There is still much left to be done. Send his body to me.

"Yes, master." He rasped, suddenly feeling empty. _Grimulfr_ hissed in his hands, the runes inscribed on the blade burning with unholy energy. It was hungry, and it wanted the paladin's blood. His opponent was still staring at him in defiance, though his body had no strength left to resist. Hefting his axe, he raised it above his head. "Well fought, paladin." Was all he could manage to say, and to his surprise, regretful sadness drenched his voice.

The axe descended, crimson filled the air, and a body slumped to the ground. Then the air was filled with cheers, and screams of despair. Some of the militia dropped their weapons and fell to their knees, while the rest of the New Avalon soldiers formed a small shield wall before Steiner.

Weary for the first time he could properly remember, he turned his back on the battle, and walked through the crowd of death knights and minions.

"Take the prisoners, kill the ones who resist, and bring the paladin's body back. The master wants his remains." He called out as he walked away.

_An hour later..._

The only sound of battle that remained was in the distance, near the gate to New Avalon where the rest of the Ebon Blade forces fought for entry into the town. But the battle behind Steiner had ended, very quickly, in fact. Steiner had seen nothing of it, though. He had walked away, and kept his back to the fighting until it was over. Now prisoners were being shackled, and weapons were being looted from the corpses. He glanced to his left, to watch two ghouls carrying the bloody corpse of the paladin off towards the base camp. Another hero turned minion, he guessed sadly.

A row of prisoners were being herded behind the paladin's corpse, their escorts banging their fists against their chests in salute. Steiner nodded slightly in acknowledgement as he watched hopeless faces pass him by. Some were crying, some were singing sad songs, and some still had that look of defiance written upon their faces. All except one.

It was a man, an old man, really. Thinning, short gray hair and an old face made even older by exhaustion. He was wearing the robes of a priest, and he was staring hard at Steiner. The death knight watched the man as he passed by. The man was scrutinizing him, and Steiner felt an urge to strike him for it. But then something clicked in his mind. He knew the man! How, he hadn't the faintest clue, but he was absolutely sure he had met the priest before. The name eluded him too, but the face was familiar.

"What is happening to me?" He mumbled to himself. The priest must've seen the look on his face, because the cleric's eyes widened, and a look of recognition lit upon his face. But the look passed quickly, replaced by one of disappointment and sadness. Just as he was about to approach the priest, one of the escorting death knight initiates punched the man in the back of the head. "Don't look at the death knight, human! He'll have your eyes! Isn't that right?" The escort grinned at him.

Steiner nodded dumbly, and silently watched the man disappear into the herd of prisoners. Looking back at the battlefield, he felt a very real, and very unfamiliar emotion: Guilt.


	3. Chapter 3 Sympathy For the Devil

Chapter three: Sympathy For the Devil

_A few days later…_

"Are you listening, Death Knight?"

Steiner looked up at Knight Commander Plaguefist. Up until now, he'd been droning out the commander, lost in his own thoughts. He vaguely remembered what he had been told. Something about prisoners being found. "Apologies, commander, the master was speaking to me."

Whether Plaguefist believed him or not was unknown to Steiner. His superior wore an iron mask over the lower half of his face, and his eyes were all but unreadable. Either way, it was enough of a lie to spare him a torrent of angry words. "Ah, well, pay attention then. We've found this barracks full of Argent Dawn prisoners. Seems the Crusade has been real busy. Some of our earlier prisoners escaped before we could kill them, but a few were rounded up the other day. We threw them in there with the rest. I'm too busy to execute them, so I'm forming an execution detail, and since you did such a good job killing that paladin, I thought I'd give you the honor of joining. Just go in there, pick one, and take his head off."

Steiner nodded, the words of his commander barely registering. Usually, he would have been pleased to receive such an honor, but since he'd murdered that paladin, he only felt revolted. It suddenly felt wrong, like the core of his being was rebelling against what he was.

"Are you alright, Steiner? You look like you've been hit upside the head with a mace." Plaguefist commented, obviously noticing the confused look on his subordinate's face.

"No, no, I'm alright commander. I suppose I'm still getting used to what I am, that's all." That wasn't true. He'd been a death knight long enough to know full well what he was. But he couldn't think of any way to explain the turmoil he was experiencing. He also didn't think it was wise to voice it, either, if Bael's words held any truth.

"Well…" Plaguefist looked back at the barracks, and slapped Steiner on the shoulder. "Kill one of them and I'm sure you'll feel better!"

Steiner was sure that would only make him feel worse, but he simply nodded, hefted his rune-axe and stalked towards the barracks.

The inside stank of shit, piss, and death. Blood trails were smeared across the wooden floor, leading from beds to the doorways. Some trails were fresh, and others were old, the work of the Scarlet Crusade the death knight guessed. The sound of the burning chapel next door was muffled by the walls, but he could still make out the smell of burning wood amidst the stench of death. All around him were the pathetic forms of defeated prisoners, most wearing the white and black tabards of the Argent Dawn. A few, Steiner noted, were wearing the white and scarlet of the Crusade. Here and there, a few death knights picked out their prisoners and dragged them out the door or killed them on the spot.

"Let's get on with this then." The death knight mumbled to himself. Steiner was intending to just randomly pick a victim, but then something caught his eye. Beneath the towering form of an orc death knight was a human prisoner in white robes, priest's robes. Recognition kicked in, as he realized he knew this man from his battle with the paladin. With the burning need for answers, he strode up to the orc and shoved him out of the way. The orc tripped and fell in a clatter of armor, cursing.

"This one is mine." Steiner snarled, grabbing a handful of the priest's robes.

The orc got to his feet and snarled back, his hand on the hilt of his rune-sword. "And what the hell makes you think that you can just take him from me? I picked him first!"

Steiner took a step closer to the orc, his face inches from the other death knight. "Because I captured him, and the worm escaped. He's mine to kill."

Under Steiner's iron gaze, the orc relented. "He's a pathetic thing anyways. I'll find something worth my blade."

For a moment, he watched the orc walk away. Then, without looking down, he dragged the priest out the back door of the barracks, towards a small group of trees. Once safely out of earshot, he dropped the man unceremoniously to the ground. The ground by the trees was bloody and soggy, most likely because it was being used as an execution ground of sorts.

"I need answers human!" Steiner hissed at the cleric. Getting to his knees, the priest looked at his executioner. He had yet to speak to the death knight, or even acknowledge his presence. But now he did, and his eyes widened as they had days before on the battlefield.

"Kael'therin…" He whispered in shock. "I knew it was you! I used to say all you elves looked alike, but your face I'd never forget!"

Steiner gaped at the priest, the name hitting him like the Lich King's fist. "What did you say?" He stammered.

"Kael'therin. You…don't remember? Anything? Damn the Scourge! How can you not remember?" The priest had gotten to his feet, and he clamped his hands on Steiner's shoulders.

Memories were beginning to reform in Steiner's mind, but very slowly. "Kael'therin. It was my name? Before I became…" His voice trailed away as he stared at the old man in disbelief.

"Yes! Kael'therin! Our esteemed leader! The man who brought me riches! The man who saved my life! The man whose wounds I bound! Think damn you! Remember!" Replied the priest, who was staring so intensely at Steiner that it was almost physically oppressive.

"No…no! My name is Steiner. Steiner von Pe—"

The priest cut him off. "Steiner? Is that what you call yourself now? My god, they've destroyed you, Kael'therin. You were a great man once, and an even greater warrior. It saddens me that you cannot remember that. They've turned you into a monster!"

Memories broken by his master, the Lich King, began to mend. Faces were becoming whole, and names were forming in Steiner's mind. This priest had been a friend, a good friend, and a comrade. Together, they had traveled most of Azeroth in search of riches and fame. They never found much fame, but they were never short on gold. But try as he would, the cleric's name would not come to him.

"Your name…I know your face, but your name…" Steiner growled in frustration. Why would the name not come to him?

"Leofric." The priest answered, and the death knight felt his world spin.

A torrent of memories flooded into his mind, and Steiner had to brace himself against a tree as his vision blurred. He remembered now. All of it, and it flooded his mind, threatening to knock him unconscious. His name was Kael'therin, he was Sin'dorei, and a leader of warriors. The same Kael'therin that fell ill in Northrend, and…

"What have I become?" He gasped. With the memories came a wall of guilt that threatened to crush him. All the atrocities he had committed under the iron grip of the Lich King bore down on him. For all he had become, he felt like weeping. The fierce, yet honorable and kind Kael'therin had been warped into a monster ready and willing to commit murder and genocide.

Leofric looked relieved as his old companion recognized him. "It's not your fault, Kael. You didn't commit those crimes. It was the Lich King, and it was Steiner, my old friend.

The answer didn't satisfy the death knight. He shook is head slowly. "But I _am_ Steiner."

"No, Steiner is an agent of the Lich King, a murderer and a bastard. You, are Kael'therin, a friend, and a great man." Leofric replied. "I was worried you wouldn't remember who you were."

While his friend's words did nothing to reassuring him of his innocence, he had other questions that needed to be answered. "What happened after I died? Our friends, are they still alive?"

A smile lit upon Leofric's face, and he rapped his knuckles on Steiner's shoulder plate. "Of course! We managed to escape shortly after we abandoned the camp—" Leofric's smile vanished, perhaps thinking he had abandoned Kael'therin as well. "It was a hard fight, and Balric almost died from wounds on the journey back to the Eastern Kingdoms. But he recovered. The rest of us made it out relatively unscathed, but that was the end of your merry band, my friend."

Steiner—no, Kael'therin, gave the priest a quizzical look. "What do you mean? What happened after that?"

Leofric sighed, and shook his head. "After you died, none of us felt like carrying on. No one could replace you as our leader, and so we all parted ways. I hear Balric and Einar the Stout opened their own tavern together, but I don't know what happened to the rest of the group. I myself came here to New Avalon to see if I could lend a hand against the Scourge. After what happened to you, I felt like I had to. Call it making up for abandoning you."

Steiner took all of this in silently. Relief overcame his guilt as he learned the fate of his companions. At least they made it out alive. But there was still one question that needed to be answered. "What about the girl?"

With a grimace, Leofric rubbed his forehead. "I was hoping you'd forget to ask. She saw you die. We were halfway to the boat when she caught up with us. At first we thought you were with her, but when we saw the look on her face…" He paused for a moment, rubbing his eyes. "Well, we knew. She told us the story, and said we had to go back for you. But all of us knew there was no going back. The girl wouldn't hear any of it, of course, and we had to knock her out to get her on the boat. Poor thing never spoke a word after that. I think it broke her soul, and maybe her mind, when she watched you fall. She loved you, you know."

"Yes, I know."

"I can't tell you what happened to her though, she disappeared as soon as the boat hit land. None of us saw her again."

The same stab of pain in his heart he had felt so long ago reappeared, and Steiner winced. His guilt returned twofold. "All of this—" He swept his hand around him to encompass the burning the town and prisoner barracks. "Over a stupid rumor of riches in a 'strange land'."

"Something tells me, my friend, that this would have transpired even if we had never taken that doomed voyage. If not you, than some other poor fool would be wearing your armor now. Though, if it's any consolation, I wish you would have stayed dead for good." The cleric said, a lopsided grin crossing his wrinkled face.

For the first time in a long time, Steiner smiled. It was just a whisper of a smile, but a smile nonetheless.

"Steiner! What is taking you so long back there! I could have killed ten people by now!" A voice boomed in the distance. The smile died on his face. It was Commander Plaguefist. The death knight hadn't realized the conversation had lasted so long.

Leofric's earlier look of resignation returned, and he went down to his knees. Steiner gaped at him. "What are you doing? I can call my steed and we can be out of here in no ti—" His old friend's eyes said it all. There was no way Leofric could escape, and neither could Steiner. It was, the death knight mused darkly, the same look his eyes probably held so long ago in Northrend. He felt his sympathy for the girl double.

"No, I'm afraid not, Kael'therin. We both know that the Lich King still retains control over you. And while I'm glad you've found your old self, you're still not truly free. And there's no way either of us would make it out alive. I'm too old to be running about these days. Better an old man dies to give you a chance at freedom, than both of us."

"Steiner?! Are you out there?!" It wouldn't be long before Plaguefist decided to actually come looking for the death knight. Time was running short.

"Do it, my friend. Put me out of my misery. Just do me a favor, would you?"

Steiner nodded dumbly, wishing desperately for a chance to save his friend's life.

"Remember who you are, and where you come from. You weren't born a death knight. You're an elf, a man, and a warrior. Remember that, always. Don't let the Lich King destroy this world! Fight him! Fight his control! I hope one day you gain your freedom, my friend, and when you do, promise me you'll do all you can to stop this from ever happening again."

Looking Leofric in the eyes, Steiner nodded. "I promise Leofric, with all that I am, I promise."

"Oh, and make it quick."

The cleric smiled, and bowed his head. Steiner's limbs felt like lead, and time slowed to an agonizing crawl. _Grimulfr_ was poised above Steiner's head, and it felt like his limbs wouldn't move.

"I'm so sorry, Leofric."

Leofric never had time to respond. In a blur of burnt and blackened steel, _Grimulfr_ took the old man's head from his shoulders in one swipe. As the priest's remains fell to the ground, Steiner began to hack them apart. As horrifying as this business was to him, he had to make it look like he took his time with the prisoner. Otherwise, Plaguefist would get suspicious.

Plaguefist was waiting for him at the back door of the barracks, a look of anger on his face—which fell away when he saw Steiner return. His subordinate was entirely covered in blood, steam lazily rising as the warm, sticky substance froze upon skin.

"Commander."

Something hit Plaguefist's plated feet. He looked down to find a human head staring blankly up at him. Even Plaguefist was surprised at the savagery. Judging by Steiner's appearance, he doubted there was much else left of his victim.

"Feel any better, death knight?"

Steiner feigned a smile. "Actually, yes."

Plaguefist nodded slowly, and regarded the severed head again. After a moment, he booted it into the patch of woods Steiner had emerged from. "Good. You're not one of them, not anymore. You're one of us, you're scourge comrade. Now get cleaned up, there's still work to be done."

It was all Steiner could do to keep himself from attacking Plaguefist. How could he regard these deaths so casually? Almost as soon as he asked himself the question, he stopped. He knew, of course he did. Just a few days ago, he had been the same way. Instead of drawing his blade, the death knight nodded to the commander and strode off.

"I promise my old friend, this won't go unpunished."


End file.
